Unclear
by blackstrawberries
Summary: It was a simple Patronus charm, intended only for self defense... yet Fudge isn't hearing it. The Wizengamot has declared Harry guilty. Will he ever see Hogwarts again? Everything's unclear, and Harry might not ever see the place he once called home. Loosely based on the events of Book 5. AU.


Harry, still not having fully grasped the news, stumbled out of the courtroom in a daze.

Albus Dumbledore followed him, striding alongside an elderly wizard in pinstriped robes. Harry caught the slightest bit of a whisper, "... arrangements to be made."

Arthur, shell-shocked, grasped Harry by the shoulder. "Is - is it…"

Harry nodded dully, his ears still ringing.

_He wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts_. Would never attend another class, watch (much less play) another Quidditch match, complain about the loads of homework, cast another spell. What would he tell Ron? Would he get to keep Hedwig? Stay in contact with the Weasleys, or even Hermione?

His pocket felt empty without a wand. Two burly guards abruptly stepped in front of Harry and waved their wands. He felt his wrists locking together by some invisible shackle.

Arthur attempted to follow them into the elevators, but was stopped by Dumbledore, who looked grave and indignant all at once. The doors clattered together - Harry caught the slightest glimpse of Fudge, looking extremely triumphant…

"Where're you taking me?" Harry muttered.

"The Improper Use of Magic Office," one of the guards grunted in response. "Strippin' your powers, breakin' your wand."

Harry stiffened in surprise. So quickly… would he be able to say goodbye?

The elevator doors clattered open at a completely white, blank hallway with dark carpeting. The guards steered him out of the elevator and to the right. There were nothing but blank white doors ahead, some labeled in tiny print.

A torrent of emotions hit Harry all at once and he felt hot, wet tears streaming down his cheeks. He attempted to wipe them away in embarrassment, but the guards had iron grips.

They appeared to be expecting him at a wide-open door to the left. A tiny female wizard with a shock of silver hair and large magenta earrings led Harry (and the guards) to a waiting area, where Harry was forcefully sat down in a rusting silver chair. As soon as the guards released his arms, his wrists zoomed of their own accord to the arms of the chair, where they was once again locked.

The office was small and completely silent except for a magic quill scratching memos onto violet paper. A blue-haired, formidable looking witch sat at a desk, furtively signing what appeared to be notification letters. The only other objects in a room were another silver chair, a bookshelf crammed with volumes, and a small, peeling yellow door, behind which (Harry supposed) was the room where he'd be stripped.

Suddenly, a wispy witch with greying hair walked into the room, grasping a violet memo in her arms.

"The stripping of powers has been postponed until further notice," she said quietly, though she was clearly audible in the tiny, quiet room. "You are dismissed to the care of Arthur Weasley and family until the date is determined. You may leave."

Harry felt the shackles fall apart. He stood up, brushing off the seat of his pants, and found himself facing Mr. Weasley, who had a mixed look of relief and worry on his face.

"Let's go. Quickly, now." Mr. Weasley hastily led Harry down the hall and into the elevator - suddenly, they were striding at a rapid pace through the Atrium, where curious eyes met him.

"Keep your head down and don't breathe a word," Arthur breathed as they rushed out of the Ministry.

The trip through the telephone booth was brief. They burst through the tiny door and before he knew it, Harry was back on the Underground, speeding on a train back to Grimmauld Place.

"Dumbledore pulled some strings," Arthur muttered quietly. "Leave it to him, Harry, he'll handle everything. Until then, though…" Arthur bit his lip nervously. "You won't be able to return to Hogwarts, and even Dumbledore doesn't expect answers before December."

_December_. Three months of waiting. Where? At the Burrow, where he'd have to face Molly and Arthur's pitying looks, moping around a too-big house? Or at Grimmauld Place, holed up in a depressing bedroom for weeks on end with no one but his bitter godfather for company?

They made it back to Grimmauld Place in record time, where, of course, everyone awaited them.

"What's going on, Arthur?" Molly demanded in a fierce whisper the second they'd crossed the threshold. "Did they…"

"Call a meeting of the Order. _Now_." Arthur turned to Harry with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Harry, but you'll have to wait until the meeting's over to ask any questions."

Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George hot on their heels, thundered down the stairs. "Did you get off?" Fred asked eagerly. His face fell the minute he examined everyone's crestfallen faces. "No. Don't tell me…"

"Children. Upstairs. Now." Molly looked tense. "Into Harry and Ron's room, I'll bring up some sandwiches. Until then, Harry, you're not allowed to breathe a _word _about what happened today. Even the slightest breach could land you right back in Fudge's clutches."

"Muuuum," Ginny whined.

"_Now. _I mean it." Molly rushed to the door to greet the members of the Order as they filed in, one by one.

Dejected, they all traipsed up the stairs, Ron leading the way to their cramped bedroom.

"What's going…" Ron began, but Hermione shushed him immediately.

"You heard what your mum said, Ron, he's not allowed." Hermione looked hungry for answers, but she determinedly kept her mouth shut.

"Can you nod, then, Harry, when we ask questions?" Ginny whispered, as if afraid to speak.

Fred and George merely looked astounded as Harry nodded.

"We thought for sure…" Fred muttered.

"Okay, first - were you cleared?" Ginny asked anxiously.

Harry shook his head no. Hermione gasped.

"So… so… they stripped your powers? Confiscated your wand?"

Harry didn't answer, trying to appear as if he were studying the pattern on the rug.

A knock at the door broke the silence - it was Molly, magicking trays of tea and sandwiches in front of her.

"Right, Harry, you've been cleared, Dumbledore says you have permission to talk, but _only _to these five." Molly gestured to her children and Hermione. "And you lot," she said, rounding on them, "if you let slip even the smallest detail…"

"We know, we know," George said assuringly.

Molly shot them warning glances as she backed out of the room.

"What happened?" Ron and Hermione asked at once.

"All right. They said I could've run if I wanted to, wanted a bit of attention by showing off," Harry said, recalling the details bitterly - Fudge's angry purpling face, Amelia Bones's desperately indecisive expression, Dolores Umbridge weighing in with her high-pitched tones. "And they ruled. I'm guilty."

Hermione scooted closer, the sandwiches lying abandoned behind her. "And? They took your powers?"

"Nope," Harry revealed. "They were about to, I was taken to the office and everything - but Dumbledore talked to someone, I don't know, and they postponed it."

"So what, you're going back to Hogwarts? D'you still have your wand?"

Harry patted his pockets. "No, they took that the minute the verdict was read."

Ron sat back, ashen-faced. "You're not going back to Hogwarts, then?"

"Not allowed, not until December." Harry felt his insides freeze at the thought of never returning to the one place he had ever considered home.

"Are you allowed to go out and stuff? With us, to say, Diagon Alley?" George inquired.

"I don't know. I'm in the care of your parents, though, until they decide on a date for further inquiry," Harry said, suddenly feeling ravenous. He reached for a sandwich.

The others, particularly Ron, took this as a cue to begin eating and began devouring the sandwiches.

"So… what now?" Ron asked thickly through a mouthful of ham.

"I don't know. I s'pose that's what the meeting's about," Harry muttered, washing down the chicken with a gulp of cold tea.

Hermione immediately brandished a copy of _A History of Wizarding Law_, a nearly three-thousand page volume, and _The Stripping of Powers_, by Donald Sparkcraft, from under the bed and began reading. Ron attempted to keep a light voice as he chatted with Harry, but Harry could sense the tension underlying his words.

After what seemed like ages of forced conversation and page-turning, while Ginny and the twins traded Chocolate Frog cards, there was another, more timid knock at the door.

It was Tonks. She looked slightly pallid. "The meeting's over, Dumbledore's just left but Molly and Arthur want to talk."

Harry felt himself growing angry again. Harry had just gone through the ordeal of his life, fully expected to have his powers stripped, and Dumbledore _still _appeared to be avoiding him. He sighed and followed Tonks out of the room.

In the basement kitchen, a stew was bubbling over the fire, but no one was preparing for a meal. Harry found the room crowded with everyone from Professor McGonagall to a sour-looking Snape to little Elphias Doge, nearly all of them with somber expressions. Harry was escorted to a seat beside Sirius in the middle of the table - the rest were led to the far corner and out of the way. The room was strangely quiet.

"So, what? What do I do, from now?" Harry asked dully.

"You're still not allowed back to Hogwarts," Arthur said immediately. "Your wand's still in custody with the Ministry, Fudge fully expects your powers to be stripped by early October, but Dumbledore's still negotiating that. He says there's very slim chances of you being cleared of your charges. One in a thousand verdicts are overturned by the Wizengamot. But you've been lucky thus far…" Arthur smiled weakly.

"Until then, you'll be living here with Sirius," Molly added, in a tone that made it clear she did not approve of this course of action, "but Arthur and I will be staying here so that you'll remain in our custody."

"The thing that worries Dumbledore the most, though," Sirius pitched in, immediately after Molly, "is the fight against Voldemort."

"Sirius," McGonagall hissed. "He needn't know, he's got enough on his plate…"

Sirius ignored her. "With you out of the way, Voldemort just has one enemy left. Dumbledore. You're eliminated if Fudge refuses to re-evaluate. And Voldemort has a clear playing field."

"That's _enough_, Sirius, he's got enough to worry about," Arthur said firmly, looking furious.

"Just keep your head down, that's all I'm saying," Sirius muttered, letting the subject drop.

"Look, no one in here needs to worry. If there's one person that can get Harry off, it's Dumbledore," Remus said to the room at large. Almost everyone nodded in agreement, with the exceptions of Snape, who still looked as if he didn't want to be there, and Mundungus, who'd nodded off in his seat.

"Like I said, Dumbledore doesn't expect a clear verdict before December, but rest assured - we're here for you," Arthur said in a concluding voice. "You've got an interrogation next week, on Friday. I will be escorting you to that."

"And until then, the others will be here, and we've got several more rooms of the house to tidy up," Molly said, in a feebly cheerful voice.

"Meeting's over," Arthur finished.


End file.
